An old desert rat named Burdew
Came to town one day for a screw.
He threw down a quarter
And drawled out, "That orter
Cover a quick poke or two."
The madam looked very askance
At the grime on his shirt and his pants,
His scruffy gray beard,
The eyes that went weird,
And the odor that wasn't from France.
"Ol" fella," she said with a
grin,
"For a quarter, I'll let you right in
To a room that's just ripe
For a man of your type
And a gal that's ideal for your sin."
The prospector's eyes went aglow
As the fire began burning below.
His hands started shaking
And his knees were aquaking.
It was plain he was rarin' to go.
So they led him out back of the place
To a shed with just enough space
For the fattest pink sow,
He'd seen anyhow
With a sorta' sweet smile on her face.
Burdew shoved everyone aside,
Slammed the door and was quickly astride
His porky delight
Where he spent the whole night
In a passionate piggyback ride!
At daybreak, Burdew poked his head
Out of the tumbledown shed
With a satisfied sigh,
He said, "Miss Piggy and I
Will be having our breakfast in bed."
